


The Company Way

by shireness



Series: Playing the Part [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Emma Swan is very done with being pregnant, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 17:53:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18761434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shireness/pseuds/shireness
Summary: Stage Manager Emma Swan always has something to worry about, and right now the mess that's taken over her balcony tops the list.And maybe some anxiety about all the ways her life is changing.(She'd rather focus on the boxes.)





	The Company Way

**Author's Note:**

> A few weeks ago I visited NYC, went to a Broadway show, and got the biggest kick out of how messy their tech balcony was. Just a cluttered mess. And then this came out of it, because I can't help myself.
> 
> Rated T for language. Title taken from "How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying". 
> 
> Enjoy!

Emma never even sees the box coming.

Phrased like that, it sounds a bit ridiculous, not to mention melodramatic (though that last one is just an occupational hazard, probably). Then again, she’s eight months pregnant and can’t see her feet. The world right now is kind of turning into an invisible obstacle course, and she doesn’t even get the satisfaction of rubbing her toes when she inevitably stubs them on something. Because she can’t reach her toes anymore.

This will all be worth it when she gets to hold her baby for the first time, but in the meantime, it’s fucking miserable. Never again. She’s positive she didn’t ache nearly this much with Henry. The advantages of youth, or something.

(Probably the only advantage of youth, considering that even if she didn’t feel like she was falling apart quite as much physically, she was alone and terrified. Falling apart emotionally, if you will. She wouldn’t trade Killian’s support for anything, even magical relief from her aches and pains. He gives a damn good foot rub anyways. She’ll keep him.)

Still. The box. 

“Robin!” she practically growls, moving further inside the balcony towards the booth. This level has kind of become a catch all in the almost four years the show has been running, but it always seems like the most mobile of the junk is her lighting designer’s, boxes and cords and God only knows what else constantly appearing and moving and showing up when she least expects it. She would have guessed it was his anyways, but a look back at the box shows that it’s filled with neatly coiled extension cords. Definitely Robin. 

It’s not his head that pops out of the booth, however, but Mulan’s. When Emma leaves, she’ll be taking over instead as stage manager with Scarlet moving into the assistant stage manager position Mulan had previously occupied. Emma has been supervising for the past two weeks, helping her replacement get used to the role, and then in another two weeks it’ll be all hers when Emma leaves. “Sorry, boss, I think he ran to the bathroom real quick,” Mulan explains. “Is there something I can do?”

“Ugh, don’t say that word,” Emma whines. The baby seems to be perched right on top of her bladder these days, and Emma’s not convinced that the sheer power of suggestion won’t force her to make another trip to the restroom. Again. Honestly, she might as well have a designated stall these days. 

(She should probably stop saying just “the baby” all the time. It’s a girl, after all, or at least they’re 90% certain it’s a girl.  _ Things hide sometimes, _ the doctor had joked,  _ but I don’t have any reason to think that’s the case. _ They absolutely have not picked out a name yet, and Emma’s trying not to panic about that, really. They’ve got time. Probably.)

“Is nesting a thing that can happen at work?” Emma asks suddenly. “Because I want to clean every corner of this damn balcony.”

“You tripped over something, didn’t you?” Mulan asks. It’s pretty obvious she’s trying not to laugh, which Emma does  _ not _ appreciate. Maybe she should have promoted Dorothy instead, because Dorothy probably wouldn’t be laughing right now.

(Oh, who is she kidding. She’s a massive pregnant woman who’s about to throw a fit over some boxes.)

“No comment,” she grumbles, not that it’ll do much good. Things around here are as tight as family, and if there’s one thing Emma’s learned about families, it’s that they like to tease. And gossip. God, they might as well just broadcast everything all the time with the way news travels around here. She’ll probably have Mary Margaret all over her by intermission, demanding to know if she’s alright.

Emma shouldn’t complain. It’s nice that everyone is so invested in her pregnancy - great, really. She knows that they’re like this not just because they care, but also because everyone feels like they were a part of her and Killian’s ridiculous love story. By extension, everyone has kind of started to feel like it’s  _ their _ baby, resulting in constant demands to know how Emma’s feeling and how the baby is today and has she had a vegetable lately and does she want to rest for a moment and all the million other things everyone is now deeply concerned with. They’re throwing her a shower next week she’s not supposed to know about. Scarlet always waits by the stage doors when she’s coming backstage to lead her around and make sure she doesn’t trip or knock over anything, probably warned by those traitors Mulan and Kristoff and Robin. She thinks he might be a couple days away from just rolling her around in a wheeled office chair for fuck’s sake, probably already recruiting people to back up his arguments why she should let him. And it’s not that it’s not sweet, or endearing, because it is, it’s just also a lot. A  _ lot _ . Everyone has just been so much lately, and Emma can’t help but feel a little suffocated.

The boxes, though… Emma just might be willing to cave to everyone’s desire to constantly baby her, so to speak, if these damn boxes get moved. And the balcony organized. 

“You rang?” Robin calls as he saunters back into sight in that way people who don’t have an entire other human strapped to their abdomen do. God, Emma misses being able to walk without the extra weight and the back pain that comes with it. Or the waddling. It’d be nice to not waddle, too. 

“Your boxes are in the way,” Mulan explains before Emma can even start getting her words together.

“I can speak for myself!” Emma snaps back. Mulan looks a little ashamed at that, and Emma does feel bad - the promoted ASM really does a great job, and Emma knows she’s just trying to look out - but as the same time, it was pretty presumptuous, speaking for Emma.

“Sorry, boss,” she mutters back. 

They all pause for an expectant moment before Emma finally sighs. “Yeah, fine. Exactly that. I almost tripped on one of your stupid-ass boxes, Robin.”

He snorts. Wrong move.

“Jesus, you’ve got a kid, Loxley. What, did you forget this part? Clean your shit up so I don’t trip over what I can’t see,” she snaps back.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he soothes.  _ Well, at least he remembers that bit _ , Emma thinks as he leads her towards a seat.  _ Figures _ . “Why don’t you sit down and we’ll try to clean things up a bit. Mulan? Do you want to page Scarlet or Dorothy and see if they can help? Or at least spare one of the stagehands?”

Emma tries to hold on to her irritation as she sinks down into a chair, her indignation at being so obviously coddled, but it really does feel good to get off her feet - good enough for the sense of relief to win out. “What even  _ is _ all this shit?” she demands in an attempt to hang onto her righteous frustration. It doesn’t work, if the smile she sees pulling at the corner of Robin’s mouth is any indication.

“Little bit of everything,” he shrugs. “You know. Extra Playbills. Spare bulbs and films. Every cord known to man. Christmas decorations.”

“It’s January.”

“When has the theater ever been on top of storing their shit?” Robin asks, heavily dropping the offending box. “I’m pretty sure they never took those back into storage last year, you just weren’t pregnant and trying to clean everything around here. I don’t know, ask Jefferson.” Dusting off his hands - God, has all of this crap been sitting up here long enough to collect dust? Maybe Emma ought to set one of the stage hands on all of this with a feather duster - he drops dramatically into the chair next to Emma’s. “Now, do you want to talk about what’s really bothering you?”

Emma lolls her head over to glare at Loxley, the most effort she’s willing to expend right now. “Your stupid-ass boxes are what’s bothering me, especially when they’re in my way,” she deadpans back.

Robin snorts out a little laugh. “No it’s not. C’mon, tell me.”

“There’s nothing to tell!” Emma insists. It might not be true. Robin might be right, and there might be other reasons she’s about to have a conniption about the state of the tech balcony. He doesn’t need to know any of that.

“Yes there is,” he grins knowingly.

“No, there’s not.”

“Yes, there  _ is _ .”

“There’s not!”

“Ok, so you’re not freaking about about the fact that you’re leaving in two weeks, and not coming back?”

Emma groans. “Don’t say that.”

“Aha!” he crows triumphantly. “Can’t hide from me, Em, Loxley knows all. And  _ you _ ,” he nudges her arm, “are freaking out.”

She flips him the bird. He’s earned it. Mostly because that’s exactly what’s happening here.

You see, the thing is, they’ve got a closing date now. A four and a half year run isn’t anything to sneeze at, and everyone is looking forward to moving on to different projects. It’s been a successful show; they’ll land on their feet, once April rolls around and they’re all left twiddling their thumbs again. But even if Emma only has two weeks left of work before… leave (it feels better to call it leave than her last day, even if that’s what it is), the baby is due in late February. If she came back to work after six weeks, that would literally be a week before the show closes. There’s no point to it.

And it’s fine! It’s great! She’s having a baby! Mulan more than has this under control! But there’s a greedy little part of Emma’s heart that insists that this is  _ her _ show and she should be here until the very end - like it’s her sacred duty or something. That’s obviously not an option unless Emma intends to be the world’s first 11-month pregnant woman, and a damn agile one at that, but still. It’s a guilty thought that niggles in the back of her mind. In the meantime, there’s a feeling that if she has to leave, she has to leave everything in absolutely perfect condition. It’s a little thing of Killian’s that’s rubbed off on her, she thinks - the way he scours the house before they leave on even a short trip, “just in case there’s an accident and people have to sort through our things.”

Weirdo. 

“We’re going to be fine, you know,” Robin tells her more gently, slinging an arm around Emma’s shoulders. “We’ll miss you, but you’ve set up a tight ship here. It won’t fall apart when you leave.”

“Yeah, because I’ll make sure everything is ready before I leave,” Emma argues. Pointlessly.

“No, because you’ve trained everyone here incredibly well and they all just want to make you happy. It’s a little weird, really,” he chuckles.

“Shut up,” Emma mutters without any heat in her tone, leaning into Robin’s shoulder. He really is comfortable, in a brotherly kind of way. “What if something goes wrong? What if something happens, and I’m not here?”

“Then we’ll deal with it,” Robin replies matter-of-factly. “There’s a lot of smart people here, and we’ll figure it out. Or we’ll call you and you’ll fix it over the phone like the superhero you are. But it won’t come to that, because everyone knows what they’re doing.”

“You’re probably right.” It kind of comes out as a groan, but that suits Emma’s mood, so that works just fine. 

“I’m definitely right.”

“Okay, well, don’t let it go to your head,” Emma protests. In the distance, steps sound on the stairs. Emma just assumes it’s one of the crew members Robin summoned until she hears the voice.

“Trying to steal my wife, Loxley?” Killian calls as he takes the last few steps up the stairwell. He doesn’t really mean it; even if Emma couldn’t see that in his easy grin, she knows the two men have formed a friendship over the past several years.

“That’d be a disaster in the making,” Robin snorts. He stands up as Killian approaches, both to offer him the seat and do that stupid handshake men do instead of just saying hello like normal people. Idiots. “I’ll go see what we can’t condense or throw away,” he tells Emma. It’s an offer for a bit of privacy, and she’ll take it. “Yell if you need something.”

Emma nods absentmindedly, but she’s already much more focused on the man now sitting down next to her. Her husband. God, she still loves that word. Her hands have been swelling a little bit and she lives in mild fear that she’ll have to take her rings off so they don’t cut off circulation. Killian obviously won’t blame her if that happens - it’s no one’s fault, obviously, and he’s not the type to do that even if it were - but she really,  _ really _ loves her rings. It doesn’t feel like too much to ask to be able to keep wearing them.

“Hello, love,” he murmurs, kissing her hand just above those same rings. As if on cue, the baby kicks a hard jab in Killian’s direction. Even if she’d been nice and calm all afternoon, it’s already obvious that the kiddo loves Killian’s voice, kicking up a storm whenever he talks - especially if they’ve been apart all day. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine until you showed up,” she grumbles half-heartedly. “Your kid just started a kickboxing match.”

“Is it actually called a match?” Killian wonders out loud. At the same time, his hand reaches over to search out where the little feet are landing. Maybe if Emma’s very lucky, he’ll be able to calm the baby down. Lord knows she doesn’t have luck with it; they’ve already got a daddy’s girl in the making.

“Don’t know, don’t care,” she replies. “No offense, but why are you here? We’re always happy to see you, but I thought you had that meeting today.” He’s been in talks with one of the networks to star in a televised musical, and they’re still trying to hammer out the details.

“Rescheduled,” he winces. “Which I didn’t discover until I was already in the building. I was already down here, though, and Henry isn’t off school yet, so I thought I’d come see you instead. Maybe pick up some lunch?”

“Oh, God yes,” Emma groans, this time in anticipated pleasure. “Can we get, like, the greasiest loaded fries in Manhattan? That’s all I want.”

“As you wish, my love,” he chuckles, before turning serious. “Is everything alright? It looked like I interrupted a grave moment.”

“Yeah, just… can I call it separation anxiety if we’re talking about a job? And the separation hasn’t actually happened yet?”

“Sounds good enough for me,” Killian smiles. “It’s all going to be fine, you know. The ship will sail on, even if its captain has to step back.”

“Good analogy.”

“I thought so.”

“I do know that it’ll be fine, for the record,” Emma emphasizes. “Everyone knows what they’re doing. I just…” she pauses. “I’m going to miss it. A lot of good things happened here.”

“I know,” Killian agrees, bending down to press a kiss to the top of her head. “But we’ll have other adventures too. This is just the beginning of another wonderful thing.”

“The best thing. Together.”

“Together.”

They sit in silence for a moment, just enjoying their current little moment of forever, before Emma groans and moves to hoist herself back up. Thank god all these theater seats have arm rests she can leverage herself off of. “Alright. Let’s go get my fries, Robin won’t let me help clean up anyways.”

“Aye aye, captain,” Killian laughs, pulling her the rest of the way to her feet. “Let’s go find you your treasure.”

It’s still scary, knowing she’ll have to leave all this, but Robin and Killian are right too - it’ll be fine, and more than that, it’ll be an adventure.

In the meantime, there’s no reason the ship she sets sailing can’t be a clean one.

(No one needs this many boxes, anyways.)

**Author's Note:**

> God, I love this verse, and the CS relationship, and the Emma and Robin friendship I've apparently decided has to be everywhere in it. All of it. It's my favorite. Maybe if we're lucky I can write more of these.
> 
> Also posted on tumblr - I'm @shireness-says. Come say hi.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I hope you liked it!


End file.
